


Catch and Release

by xzombiexkittenx



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: M/M, set in season three, their last supper, will be jossed by season three, zero spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-07
Updated: 2015-03-07
Packaged: 2018-03-16 18:48:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3499040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xzombiexkittenx/pseuds/xzombiexkittenx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"It occurs to Hannibal that if he had wanted Will dead, he probably should have killed him."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Catch and Release

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Color-division (Romiko)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Romiko/gifts).



> For color-division on her birthday who prompted: Will and Hannibal last night together before shit goes down and later reuniting.

Hannibal is enough of a gourmand to know that what they ate that night was indeed human flesh. Will brought him someone wrapped in butcher paper, but wasn't Freddie Lounds. Probably it was Randall, still little more than a pawn between them.

He gives Will the space to confess and gets nothing. All this time Hannibal has ensured he is two steps ahead of everyone and now this. He doesn't know what to do with this. Jack Crawford will come for him, he knows that much. He doesn't know if Will has the courage to see his plan through or not. He doesn't know what he will do. He still has time to leave.

Will is not concerned by his lack of conversation. He doesn't have the same problem with eye-contact that he used to, but the glances he steals have no guilt in them. Hannibal wonders if he is conflicted. He wonders if this hurts Will as much as it hurts him. There are ways he could ensure that was the case. He wants to hurt Will in return, but this might be their last day together. Hannibal will never have this moment again. He holds it in his hands like a teacup he's not sure he can live without.

Rarely is he at a loss for what to do, but Hannibal feels paralyzed by indecision. He stares down at the dishes in the sink, not sure how long he stalls there until Will puts a hand on his shoulder.

"Traditionally you read the future in tea leaves," Will says.

Hannibal can't bear it. He turns, and Will is so close to him. They're so close. Will is so beautiful as he leans in as Judas must have, and kisses Hannibal. 

"Take me to bed," Will says. In this he does not hesitate. 

They haven't done this. This was not something Will had been prepared to give him. Hannibal wants to ask if it's because this is their last day; if Will is taking this moment for himself, or if he's ensuring Hannibal's compliance in his own demise. 

Hannibal kisses Will's mouth, every detail burned into his memory, and draws away.

"We have a great deal left to do," Hannibal says. It's not entirely a lie. He needs to decide what he will do about Abigail. What he will do about Jack, and Alana, and Bedelia. He needs time to decide if he will run or not. Mostly though, he cannot do it. Better he had never loved at all. He can't have this once and then lose it forever. 

Will looks surprised. He was not expecting Hannibal to refuse him. He is baiting the hook with his own flesh, and Hannibal was foolish enough to mistake what they had for true affection. Of course Will thinks Hannibal would want this. He does want it, desperately, but not like this.

Hannibal can't find it in himself to smile, but he takes Will's hands and kisses them. "Once we are away from here," he says and the moment is gone.

He leaves Will, bleeding out, surrounded by his own design, the mess Will made. 

And then a year passes. 

Will comes after him, runs him to ground through the chapels, and cathedrals, and charnel houses of Florence.

It occurs to Hannibal that if he had wanted Will dead, he probably should have killed him. They both know that a gut wound like that, especially with help already on the way, was not likely to be fatal. Will comes to him with the knowledge that Hannibal wasn't able to decide his fate, the way he decided for so many others. They both hesitated. They both lost.

Will left his glasses - the frames with the plastic lenses - behind him. He faces Hannibal without shame, without fear, without anything left between them. There is certainty in Will, where before there was indecision and doubt. It makes Hannibal feel weary. Seeing Will is salt in a wound that never really healed.

Bedelia would tell Hannibal this is a suicide run - for one of them, for both of them. She has ceased to be patient with his feelings for Will Graham. He doesn't blame her. She warned him long ago how it would end. But she isn't here. 

Will is alone. He's armed, but Will isn't going to shoot him. Hannibal had his chance to murder Will, and he didn't take it. Will had his chance to murder Hannibal, and he didn't take it. This is not going to be that sort of fight.

"Have you come for your reckoning?" Hannibal asks.

"No, I haven't," Will says, voice breaking. "You said..." Will closes the distance between them until he is close enough to betray Hannibal again. "You said, when we were away from Baltimore."

Hannibal can't look away, even though he knows he should. If this plays out the way it always has done between them then the police will appear soon and make their decisions for them.

Will's mouth pulls into a crooked smile. "It's just me," he says, like he can read Hannibal's mind. "Interpol is right behind me, I've seen them. But we've got some time, and I didn't come here for that."

"No?" Hannibal says. "I am not changed from what I was."

"Yes, you are," Will says. "I told you-"

Hannibal grabs hold of Will's wrists this time, pulls him close. "I have not stopped," he says, trying to make Will understand. "I will not stop."

"Would you _shut up_ ," Will says. "You took everything else, will you just let me have this?" He twists his wrists in Hannibal's grasp, catches hold of Hannibal's jacket and hauls him closer still. "Will you give me this?" he asks.

"You're not gay," Hannibal hears himself saying.

"That's a little reductive, Doctor Lecter," Will says. His breath smells like coffee. He's still wearing Old Spice aftershave. 

Hannibal lets Will kiss him again. He threads his fingers through Will's curls, touches the bristle of his beard, strokes his fingers down Will's chest until they ghost over the place he gutted Will. "May I see?" Hannibal asks.

Hannibal is going to be caught. Will Graham is going to be his downfall. Hannibal suspects that he will look back at this moment and curse himself for the decision he's making, but right now he has a second chance at what he wants and he's not about to let it go twice. He'll just have to make his peace with it later. He'll have plenty of time for that when they catch him.


End file.
